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Once more I turn my eyes on the green hills and swelling pastures. There may be There may be a bareness, a monotony in the landscape to those accustomed to a rich and wooded country, but to me it seems very calm, very peaceful, strangely beautiful-like the face of a sweet and gracious woman.

CHAPTER II.-DOMESTIC LIFE.

My father was minister of the parish, a devout and worthy man, who discharged his duties conscientiously, but cared little to make a noise in the world. He was a person of considerable erudition, however, and read in his Greek Testament every morning. He was of a stately presence even at the time when I can best remember him-when he was well up in years, and which harmonised well with a certain formality of manner which usually impressed strangers.

He was of middle age before he got possession of the living, having been for twelve years assistant and successor to the previous minister, Dr. Bertie, who was in feeble health. My mother was very young when she became engaged to him, and she waited patiently all these years, though she saw her youth and bloom departing from her, and had more than one opportunity of being comfortably settled in life; but it was James Morrison or no one. They were married whenever the manse was put in order. A legacy of a few hundred pounds, opportunely left to my father by a distant relative, furnished it. The furniture was all good substantial mahogany, fitted to stand wear and tear, with no carving or ornamental work about it. My mother provided the necessary silver articles, the blankets and napery, her own chest of drawers, and the best bed with the brown moreen curtains, which now stands in my guest chamber, the hangings being, of course, somewhat worn and faded with the use of years.

My mother had little portion, but she made up for it by her thrift. She was one who could "put to her hand," as the saying is; make her husband's shirts, knit his stockings-ay, cook his dinner if need were, and yet at all times be a lady. It used to be said of her that her sixpence went as far as most people's shilling; but it was not from penuriousness, she had a wise liberality of spirit. She was a person of low stature and slim make, with a pale but clear complexion and gentle look. Everybody liked her, for she was no scandalmonger, but ever loving peace and quietness. She had a peculiar knack in helping people to help themselves, procuring spinning for the old women, and little jobs about the gentlemen's policies and farmers' steadings for the bairns; and this she said was better than almsgiving, for it fostered independence.

Nor was her own wheel idle, she could spin with the best of them; and not merely on the little fancy wheel on which ladies of that time spun fine lint in their parlours, but on the "muckle wheel" itself. She kept it in the nursery, and on it she and Bell, our old bairn's-maid, spun many a roll of white woollen stuff, and many a goodly piece of linen, fine, and yet of a strength and durability that would laugh to scorn most of the fabrics of the present day.

mering white out of doors. The beech-trees stretch their bare wintry arms motionless against the sky; the rime is fast settling down upon them, and upon the shrubs that border the walk. I cannot see this from the nursery, but I got a glimpse of it from the staircase window as we came up from the parlour after tea. The panes to-morrow morning will be dim and rich with the fantastic blazonry which an invisible finger has already begun to trace upon them. The stars are looking solemnly down on the skylight window of our nursery. I have been glancing timidly up at them at intervals since they have appeared, for they awe me, these stars; they exercise a kind of weird influence over me which forces me to watch them. I love the window in the daytime, though its only view is a little patch of sky, and though the raindrops often patter so fiercely upon it as to make me hide my head in Bell's lap in terror-for there the blythe light streams in, and the birds come twittering around it; but at night I am haunted by these mysterious eyelike stars, which seem gazing in on me from the darkness.

And yet the sky window is not the object of greatest dread to me in our peaceful nursery. There is the Dark end, as it is called in the household, so near that to cross the intervening space which separates it from the nursery and leads to the staircase its door must be passed, sunk so deeply in the shadow of the great napery press that one can never be quite certain it is shut; for the little round window in the front gable alone gives light to this dusky vestibule. This apartment was a large lumber-room corresponding to the nursery, whose window had been boarded up to save the tax. It was never entered by any one but my mother, who kept her store of wool and lint in it. A great chest covered with a hairy skin and ornamented with rows of tarnished brass nails, stood in the centre of the room, concerning which there was a household tradition that it was full of important law papers, which, examined properly, would be found to entitle us to a fortune. When old enough to attempt this, I found they had belonged to the relative who left my father a legacy, and that they were only receipts and old business letters.

We youngsters firmly believed that this room was haunted by an evil spirit. I suspect the notion originated from some undefined threatenings of Bell's in a time of nursery insubordination, which our imaginations invested with supernatural horrors. We occasionally ventured into it in our mother's. company, for our confidence in her protection was unlimited, and our curiosity was at least as great as our fears; besides, the winter's provision of apples lay in one corner: but the door must always be set wide open, and the slightest flickering of the candle, which was necessary there even in the daytime, would make us fly from the room in terror.

Notwithstanding its questionable neighbourhood, the nursery is a cheerful room on a winter's evening. A lamp burns on the table, but the chief light is from the fire, which blazes brightly from the frosty air, and beside the high fender my mother sits at her wheel. She wears a white apron to save her gown from the lint she spins. We bairns-there were three of us-are clustered round her, admiring how fast she turns the wheel, and shouting with mis

It is a keen frosty night, and all is silent and glim

mother, though not a trained singer, had a voice as clear and sweet as a lintie's; and many an old tune she knew, the sound of which now-especially when

heard unexpectedly-ever gives me a pain at the heart. And there she would sit in her own particular high-backed chair, and sing to us such songs as "My boy Tammie," or that most pathetic of Scottish ditties, "The flowers o' the forest;" or else tell us oldfashioned nursery stories, which, if they had not much sense, had somehow a wonderful charm. And thus the evening would pass till we heard my father's study door open and the parlour bell ring, which summoned us to go downstairs for family worship. And winter after winter can I recall these simple domestic scenes, which were rarely interrupted by visitors. We lived so solitary a life that a new robin-redbreast come to the parlour window to be fed, or the track of a hare through the snow, was regarded by us as a striking incident. But where were children more happy than we?

CHAPTER III.-MY SCHOOL DAYS-THE GENTRY OF THE PARISH.

I was the youngest of the family. Archie, the eldest of us, was a gallant, frank-hearted laddie, with the curliest black hair and the blythest eyes I ever saw. My father allowed him to choose a profession, and he fixed upon that of medicine, hoping to get an appointment on board a man-of-war. He had a great yearning after a seafaring life, and he well knew that his mother would never consent to his entering the navy but as a peaceful surgeon. He and I were very unlike each other. My highest ambition was to be the minister of a quiet rural parish like my father: I disliked change and tumult. Our sister Mary was a bonny, sprightly lassie, with far more of Archie's disposition than of mine. She was her father's darling-the very apple of his eye. Archie and I were sent to the parish school. My experiences there were far from pleasant, for the master was one of those mean souls who tyrannise over the weak and timid, and wink at the faults of the bold. I had only one friend at school-young Adam Bowman, of the Culdees Loch Farm. How vividly these old times come back to me as I write his name! His father was a thriving farmer, and Adam was his only child. I loved him as only a shy, solitary boy can love the companion who astonishes him by his preference. I loved him, do I say? I love him still. More than forty years have rolled over Adam's head and mine since that period, and truly our friendship hath been somewhat like that of Jonathan and David, even "passing the love of woman."

When Archie was fourteen he was sent to Edinburgh College; Mary was placed in a boardingschool in that city at the same time. Our parents thought that a good education was the best portion they could bestow on their children, and my mother's thrift and wise foresight rendered it possible. I was too young then for college, and my health was delicate. This did me the good service of transferring me from Mr. Bairnsfather's tuition to my father's, under which I really began to learn. I was much in the open air, my mother thinking it better physic for me than all the doctors' drugs in the kingdom. Sheep-shearings, wanderings by the burn in the glen till every wavy link of it was familiar to me, lyings on the grass in the orchard watching the blue sky and the sunshine stealing through the fluttering leaves of the spreading boughs, made every summer there like a long holiday. Besides, I was always my mother's companion in her visits either to rich or poor.

Of the former we had only two resident families within walking distance-Mr. Kennedy of Hallcraigs, and the Farquharsons of the Hirsel. The Kennedys were only with us during the summer and autumn; they always spent the winter in Edinburgh. They were a fine family, and much respected in the district. Hallcraigs was a large property, and the mansion-house was a handsome modern building, with a very tasty lawn and shrubbery, and many neat, well-kept walks about it.

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The Hirsel family were of a more ancient pattern of manners-your regular proud old gentry standing up for all the privileges of their order, and not yielding an iota of them, though it might amount to nothing more important than the splitting of a straw. But their family tree was of far greater longitude than their rent roll in these days, and that might partly account for it. The founder of the family had been one of the greatest reivers of his time on the Scottish border, carrying off sometimes a hundred head of cattle at a sweep, besides setting every barnyard and farmhouse he met with on the English border during his raid in a low, Miss Philadelphia Farquharson used often to boast. I marvelled to hear her talk thus to my mother, thinking that if her forbear had reared and fed the stirks instead of stolen them, it would have been more creditable to the family. But I dared not say so to Miss Philly, being but a young lad, and standing much in awe of her; for truly she had a touch of the old reiver's grimness about her own aspect, especially about her mouth and cheek-bones, which were very square and strong. Her voice, too, was harsh and masculine in its tones; and few were courageous enough to differ from her; and my mother, whom the mere waff of Miss Philly's garments was almost sufficient to knock down, was certainly not one of them.

Miss Farquharson was more womanly, though quite as stately as her younger sister; but having the misfortune to be born with a club foot, which she tried to conceal by wearing long gowns, was not very active in her habits. A short walk round the garden after breakfast was the extent of her daily exercise. She used to sit for the greater part of the day on a settee in the drawing-room, working at something called knotting, with a volume of Sir Charles Grandison or the "Spectator" on a little long-legged table beside her. Anything more modern in literature she professed to despise as wholly unfitted to form the taste or correct the morals of the age. Flowers she seemed to have no love for, nor had she even a cat or a dog for a pet, and she reminded one of nothing so much as of a great wooden doll made to utter sounds and imitate human actions by some internal machinery.

She was very precise and punctual in all her habits. I still remember the air of offended dignity with which she exhibited the face of an ancient heirloom of a watch to my parents, on one of the rare occasions on which we were invited to drink tea at the Hirsel. "Mr. and Mrs. Morrison," she said, "are you aware that you are fully five minutes behind your time?"

It was a most uncomfortable house to bairns, who were expected to sit still in their chairs all the evening, and were constantly admonished not to spill their tea or scatter crumbs upon the carpet; and Miss Philly cut the bread-and-butter shamefully thin.

As for Mr. Farquharson, the laird, he seemed a

man who had come into the world by mistake, and had found nothing to do in it. He was a tall, stooping, narrow-chested, melancholy-looking gentleman, with a long drooping nose, which had generally a snuff-drop attached to it; who sat very close to the fire, and was always talking about taking medicine. Miss Philly managed all his affairs for him, doctoring included. He never condescended to notice me, and I confess that I cherished a strong but secret dislike and contempt for him.

It was a peaked, ivy-covered, rambling old house, the Hirsel, with somewhat of the look of a fortalice about it; and, indeed, the most ancient part of it was said to have been built by the old reiver himself. There the most trivial domestic arrangements were matters of solemn debate and deliberation, as if the welfare of the whole community around depended on whether the green terrace walk was mown this day or the next, or on Peggy cook putting a corn more pepper in the soup. They would have thought that the world was coming to its end if they could have been made to understand how little their neighbours cared about them.

No beggar was bold enough to venture up the Hirsel avenue, for the family purposely kept a dog of so ferocious a disposition chained close to the kitchen door, that no stranger durst approach him. And, truly, it is my deliberate opinion that persons who take such precautions to keep the poor at a distance from their habitations, deserve the contempt and execration of men, though they should be able to count their lineage as far back as to the days of Noah.

The summer vacations always brought back Archie and Mary to the manse. It was a great pleasure to us to hear the town news, and to see how proficient in all lady accomplishments our Mary was growing, for she could not only play the pianoforte, but she could execute curious embroideries and even pictures in silk.

I look up as I write to one of these pictures, which, framed and glazed, hangs above my chimney-piece. It represents a female figure bending over a grave and strewing flowers upon it. She leans upon a monument, and a tree, probably intended for a weeping willow, droops above it. It is a fanciful and tasteful piece, but it rouses a crowd of painful memories in my bosom. Alas! the hand that wrought it has long been mouldering in the grave.

NOTES ON NEW GUINEA.

BY THE REV. W. WYATT GILL, B.A.

coast of New Guinea. The ill-fated Maria expedition was but an outburst of the popular feeling on this subject, and nothing would be easier at any time than to get up a similar expedition for the purpose of gold-digging and colonisation from the port of Sydney.

The two vast islands bear the same name in the language of the Straits and of the south-western part of New Guinea-Daudai; Australia being Great Daudai, New Guinea Lesser Daudai. Doubtless in ages past the two formed one great southern continent. This idea of oneness forced itself very strongly upon my mind during my late visit (at the end of 1872). Torres Straits are so completely studded with islands and sandbanks that the voyager does not realise that he has broken off from Australia. The water is everywhere so shallow that it naturally suggests a late irruption of sea over very low land. One reef connects both, so that to cross the Straits is like sailing across a vast lagoon.

Many points of similarity exist between the two Daudais. Kangaroos, opossums, dingoes, and cassowaries abound in both. The famous mound-building birds (the Megapodius tumulus), the brush turkey, and the pheasant inhabit New Guinea, North Australia, and the intervening islands. The delicious nutmeg pigeon (Carpophaga luctuosa) has its home in New Guinea; but about the month of November comes over to Australia in thousands for the purpose of incubation. The wild nutmeg-tree grows like a weed in many parts of Northern Australia, the Straits Islands, and New Guinea. It is a pity that the fruit could not be utilised. On the little island of Tauan, close to the south-western coast of New Guinea, I frequently held services with some of our Rarotongan evangelists under the pleasant shade of a nutmeg grove. That valuable tree, the Mimusops Kauki, flourishes on both sides of the Straits and on the Islands. The fruit is dried in the sun and strung for use in seasons of scarcity. Its shape and sweetness have occasioned the misnomer of "date" among the whites.

It has been said that "the marine shell-fish found in the shallow waters of the shores of New Guinea are quite different from those which are met with upon the coasts of Australia." This statement does not accord with my experience; for we picked up abundance of whelks, spinula, cuscuta, turritella spiralis, and the common margarifere on the south-western coast of New Guinea, and on the north-eastern coast of Australia. The New Guinea margarifera were much inferior to those on the Australian coast; owing probably to the continual drainage of fresh water from the moist coast of New Guinea, whilst the opposite

New Guinea or Australia. And this is just what one might expect from the position of those islands. There are also striking differences between the two Daudais. The soil of North Australia is particularly dry and barren, whilst that of New Guinea is covered with the rankest tropical vegetation. Australian forests yield but little shade, but the dense continuous forests of New Guinea defy exploration. Trees of vast height and girth shut out the sky. Underneath are tree-ferns of great beauty (the frond of one exceeded the length of our five-oared boat), Kentia procera, and other strange palms, intermingled with exogenous trees, whilst vines hung their delicate drapery from the loftiest trees to the ground.

The reason for this difference is not far to seek. There are no very lofty mountains in Australianone to compare with the glorious Owen Stanley range, which at some forty miles from the shore rises almost perpendicularly to the height of 13,205 feet. At the back of these is a still loftier range, as yet unnamed, whose summit, veiled in cloud or snow, probably human feet will never tread. The countless streams which rush down the gorges and valleys in the rainy season convert the low lands into one vast morass. Hence the malaria which afflicts the sea-coast of New Guinea. Towards the east, where the life-giving trade winds blow, the climate becomes more salubrious. Doubtless, in the interior there are table-lands with a temperate climate.

That two species of kangaroo should climb trees in New Guinea-incredible as it may seem to some is one of those striking adaptations to the swampy character of the country which evince the wise arrangement of a Divine Hand. We had painful experience of a large ant (a quarter of an inch long) which makes its nest in the branches of lofty trees, cleverly bending the leaves and glueing the edges together.

On the coast of Australia there are no cocoa-nut trees, save a few planted by our own countrymen in late years, whilst the shores of New Guinea are lined with interminable groves of this most useful palm. The finest cocoa-nuts I ever saw grew on Bampton Island, in sight of the entrance to the Fly River. Certainly the cocoa-palm could not grow as luxuriantly in Australia as in New Guinea, on account of the immense difference of soil, the one being so humid, the other so arid. Yet a great change might be effected even in Northern Australia by an industrious people. In sailing along the coast of North-Eastern Australia the eye wearies of the monotonous sand-ranges, condemned to perpetual barrenness unless the cocoa-nut be hereafter planted there. On the contrary, the shores of New Guinea are everywhere covered with primeval forest, and after passing Yule Island to the eastward become an evervarying panorama of tropical loveliness.

It is usually assumed that the aborigines of western New Guinea are a totally distinct race from those of Australia. Is this really the case? Everybody knows that the Papuans dwell in fixed habitations, whilst the Australian blacks, like their own cassowaries and emus, ceaselessly roam the desert. Yet the Australian black is not deficient in original talent, as is very evident from their stone axes, canoes, fishing nets, etc., which I have seen in North Queensland. May not the difference in the physical features of the country account for the difference in

*The cocoa palm does not grow at a distance of more than twenty miles from the ocean, the salt air being necessary to its existence.

the habits of the two races? In both there is the same wretched system of numeration, neither being able to count ten. The aborigines of Australia are a lanky, half-starved race, whilst those of SouthWestern New Guinea are well-developed and sleek. Nor is this difference surprising, as the latter are a settled race, possessed of abundance of good taro, bananas, yams, and cocoa-nuts; whilst the former subsist chiefly on innutritious seeds, fruits, and roots.

The absence of the cocoa-nut and other valuable palms from Australia is sufficient to account for the immense physical deterioration that has been going

on for centuries.

Two distinct races inhabit New Guinea: the Papuan, or black, which prevails from the noble Manumanu River all along the south-west coast, and the light-coloured Malay race which occupies the eastern peninsula. The Papuans are absolutely nude, and like the allied races in Australia, the Straits, and Melanesia (with a few exceptions, where they have intermixed with the lighter race), are not circumcised. They glory in their nudeness, and consider clothing to be fit only for women. These Papuans are a muscular race, and are taller than their light-skinned fellow-countrymen in the eastern peninsula. They are better fed than the inhabitants of Redscar Bay, and are accustomed to exchange their surplus produce for the pearl oyster-shell furnished by the Jervis Islanders, who have but little food of their own.

The Papuans are incorrigible smokers. It is done by inhalation. Very strange it was to see them with closed mouths expel the smoke through the nostrils, and even through the ears, sometimes falling down insensible. They grow their own tobacco. Men, women, and children smoke day and night, ashore and afloat. In so unhealthy a climate may not this practice be somehow beneficial?

The inhabitants of Redscar Bay, who are of a rich olive complexion, obviously form a part of that great family which has spread all over central and eastern Pacific, from New Zealand to the Sandwich Islands in the one direction, and from Tonga to Easter Island in the other. Mata," for "eye," is the same in Malay, at Redscar, and in all the Polynesian dialects. "Haine," the Redscar Bay word for "woman," is obviously the same as the Rarotongan "vaine," the Tahitian vahine," and the Samoan "fafine." "Rima" is "hand" at Tahiti and Rarotonga, "lima" at Samoa, "ima" (dropping the r) at Redscar; or, reduplicated, "imaima." The word for "hand" at Redscar, as throughout the Polynesian dialects, also signifies "five," there being five fingers on each hand. The unity of these races is no longer a speculation, but an ascertained fact.

The light-skinned men of the south-eastern peninsula have the instinct of shame, which alone elevates them immeasurably above the black aborigines of the south-west coast of New Guinea. All wear a narrow, insufficient girdle. Strangely enough they are uncircumcised. In general the Polynesians are a circumcised race. As the exploration of New Guinea proceeds, it will be interesting to learn whether the other light-skinned aborigines practise this rite; and, where it is disused, whether a distinct reason can be assigned for the omission, as the writer has traced in some parts of Polynesia.

The Redscar Bay natives occasionally use tobacco, but greatly prefer to chew the betel-nut. Does not this indicate that the areca palm does not flourish in

The two races build their dwellings similarly; that is, on high stakes, to avoid the annual inundation and attacks from alligators and serpents. In Redscar Bay we miss the enormously long houses which prevail from the Fly River westward, and in which great numbers of couples live in tiny compartments. At Manumanu the houses are comparatively small, but all two-storied. In the distance the village seemed like a long double row of enormous pigeon-houses.

The Redscar Bay people, like some of the Australian aborigines, delight in extraordinary nasal ornaments. These are mostly straight; but some curve outwardly, as if in imitation of the horns of a bull. The natives of Mauat-the part of the south-western coast where we landed several times-used but few nasal adornments, although the septum was invariably pierced.

The women of Manumanu and the neighbouring villages were better clothed than their dark-skinned sisters in the west. They use the leaf of that odd-looking palm, the Nipa fruticans, in making their neat girdles. Indeed, the Redscar natives generally are a superior race, anxious for clothing, and courteous to strangers. The women are adepts in the manufacture of coarse pottery, several specimens of which we purchased. A glass bottle in which we put sand excited great admiration as to the nature of the clay which could produce transparent pottery! These women were exquisitely tattooed-face, arms, legs, and body. The men being slightly marked, made amends by smearing red paint on the forehead, wearing white cowries and the chignon, surmounted by head-dresses of white and green parrakeet feathers. Infants are invariably carried on their mothers' backs in nets, theso nets being suspended by a string from the forehead. In this particular they resemble some tribes of Australian blacks.

The timid, shrinking, down-trodden Negrillo women were not seen by us on the mainland. They were secreted in the bush with the pigs and other valuables. The women we saw belonged to Tauan, Saibai, Bampton Island, etc., all bordering on the coast of Lesser Daudai.

But the most striking difference is this, that the black race is naturally fierce and warlike. In the neighbourhood of the Fly River they are avowedly cannibal, whilst the light-coloured race are gentle and friendly. The terrible bow-of male bambooused by the Mauat warrior, is superseded at Manumanu by a very inferior wooden bow. The Manumanu shield seemed made for ornament rather than

use.

I may here observe that during the eight weeks spent by us in New Guinea waters in the hottest season of the year, we suffered but little inconvenience from the great heat. This we attribute to the entire avoidance of ardent spirits, and the frequent use of tea as a beverage. Those around us who continually drank rum suffered a good deal.

In December, 1872, in conjunction with the Rev. A. W. Murray, I landed two teachers and their wives on Bampton Island (Bārama) near the entrance to the Fly River. Never were evangelists located under seemingly more favourable circumstances. We wandered freely over the island unarmed, entered their dwellings, and partook of their hospitality. And yet, only a few weeks afterwards, these same islanders

poor fellows hesitated to give them all the property designed for the purchase of food, the whole party was massacred. Verily the tender mercies of the heathen are cruel. On the low shores of Redscar Bay a party of thirteen Rarotongans were stationed. They all suffered greatly from intermittent fever, three of them dying from that cause. But the lightskinned aborigines were uniformly kind and helpful down to the date of their removal to Cape York by Captain Moresby, of the Basilisk. This exactly corresponds with the estimate we formed of the Manumanu natives, who treat their own women so chivalrously. I would tender my best thanks to the captain and the doctor of H.M.S. Basilisk for their timely assistance in rescuing the missionary party at Manumanu. A small steamer, the Ellangowan, has just been purchased in England for the service of the New Guinea Mission, mainly the gift of Miss Baxter, of Dundee. Three experienced missionaries are about to enter that important field of labour. May God speed these heroes of the cross!

Sonnets of the Sacred Pear.

BY THE REV. S. J. STONE, M.A.

SECOND SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY. "This beginning of miracles did Jesus in Cana of Galilee, and manifested forth His glory.-St. John ii. 11.

O! the beginning of the end. At morn

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The wan face of the melancholy mainThat all night long beneath the moon hath lain, A death in life, of all but hope forlornCatches the glory of the light new born. Rose-red the joyful waters greet the hour Rich with the promise of meridian power, And smile the cold moon's memory to scorn. So turned our Sun the water into wine! So watchers for the dawn in Cana saw That orient splendour and the paling Law; So had they precious foretaste of the Vine Whose fruit in full and ever-flowing tide Makes glad the City of the mystic Bride.

Varieties.

SIEGE OF GIBRALTAR.-The great siege of Gibraltar, which was commenced in 1779, ended only with the Peace of 1783. The Artillery, all ranks included, numbered only 485. The lowest estimate of their losses was 196. There were fired during the siege 200,600 rounds and 8,000 barrels of powder. At the termination of the siege there were standing mounted on the works 548 pieces of ordnance. The device, afterwards used by the Russians at Sebastopol, was tried during the defence of Gibraltar. Guns were sunk in the sand and fired with dangerous charges at high elevations, and on the other hand means were devised for depressing the guns as much as 70 degrees. The blockade commenced in 1779, and was so well enforced that fowls sold for over a guinea a couple, tea for £2 5s. Gd, a poun.. eggs about 5d. each, and a cabbage for 18. d. But neither hunger nor scurvy could tame the garrison, neither could the bombardment, which came in 1781, though the gunners were sometimes so exhausted that their fire had to be slackened to allow them to sleep for awhile. On the 27th of November,